The Daily Lives of Shakespeare and Palamedes
by DracoWombat
Summary: Tales of what happens in the lives of two Immortal friends.
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, thisis a story I'm co-writing with williamshakespare-immortalbard, for the SINF characters Will and Palamedes as friends. It'll also involve Francis and Marethyu, as such, it contains spoilers for the Enchantress**.

* * *

"I'm sorry, Josh, but I am not telling you my secret of Immortality. It is not that I distrust you, but you of all people would understand the importance of keeping certain things for ourselves" The small man known as William Shakespeare said. " The only person I've ever told was Palamedes, but the Saracen Knight needed years to be bestowed upon this information."  
"But Will..." Marethyu tried to speak aloud  
"I am sorry, Josh, but knowledge is power, and I pretend to keep myself in power over my own life. Otherwise I would've searched for an Elder to Immortalize me..."

But the two men were interrupted by the Saracen Knight

"I'm not so sure it's a secret, Will"

"Don't be stupid, Palamedes. I have not told anyone."

"Well, you know I've told Francis..."

* * *

"Anything particularly interesting news?" Said Joan of Arc  
"Not really my dear" Said Saint-Germain, trying to sound boring or uninterested  
"You know you cannot lie to me, Francis!" Joan caught up on the lie easily  
"Palamedes told me about Shakespeare and..."

* * *

"Joan, talk about something... There's got to be something interesting in there" Scatty said  
"Nothing important..."  
"You know you can trust me."  
"Oh, well. A few decades ago my husband told me that Shakespeare..."

* * *

"Have you actually trained Shakespeare?" Scathach asked  
"He was a young boy back then, and chose to side with Dee" Flamel said bitterly, while his wife turned to listen to the coversation  
"Oh, people say he's brilliant, Nicholas" Said the Warrior Maid "Do you know how he became immortal?"

* * *

"YOU DID WHAT?! PALLY!" The Bard yelled "Well, I guess there's no purpose in keeping a secret that's not so secret anymore. I used Name Magic, that is, I tied my aura to my name. As such, as long as someone knows who I am, I live. I made sure to make friends with Immortals, but in the end I didn't even need it. The humani love my plays even now that centuries have passed. And yes, Knight, you will pay for that"

Marethyu smiled at the scene and teleportedhimself somewhen else.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N—I don't own this: everything about ****_The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel_**** belongs to Mr. Michael Scott. **

**Notes: So…DracoWombat and I are co-writing a bunch of drabbles about Shakespeare and Palamedes. I am…not very good at timed writing, so I've been behind the wagon from the get-go. But I finally got something! Enjoy—and laugh!**

**Summary: Walking through a forest is irritating if you're really tall; it's unpleasant if you're of a medium height; but if you're short…it's nothing ****_short_**** of unpleasant. Rated K—absolutely no warnings other than SPOILERS FOR "THE NECROMANCER!"**

* * *

Sherwood Forest was not a well-groomed forest. There were no paths, and from the moment that Palamedes, Saint-Germain, and Shakespeare entered they were forced to struggle their way through the undergrowth ("_and the overgrowth, and the in-betweengrowth, and every other kind of—"_ Will had cursed as they edged single file through the mess).

The branch slammed into Palamedes' chest.

"Ooof!" It was the worst of branches, covered in small, snapped, sharp side twigs that were as painful as thorns; Palamedes couldn't help the pained grunt that he gave as it scraped through his shirt and drew blood. "Branch," he warned over his shoulder at the following immortals as he pushed the branch aside—it was heavy, and he actually had to put effort into it. He stepped forward quickly and let it swing back into place.

The branch slammed against Francis' neck.

"Ouch!" the French immortal choked, reaching up to massage the cuts on his throat. The branch came swinging back for another blow, and Francis just managed to ward it off with his hands. It scratched his palms (the small twigs attached to the main branch were persistent, and the branch's attack on Palamedes had not broken more than a few) and the smaller man had to put in much more work to keep it at bay. "Branch!" Francis sang out as he slipped past, and after he was through he let go.

The branch whistled as it flew back into its original position, and—

"EEK!"

A sharp shriek echoed through the dark forest, and both Palamedes and Francis spun around; their auras lit, filling the darkness with the deep colors of green and red, like a display of Christmas lights; Palamedes drew his sword, and Francis brought fire flaring to life on his fingertips.

There was no enemy. Only William Shakespeare sprawled out (most ungraciously!) on the wet forest floor. The Bard's glasses were skewed across his face, which was covered with scratches and featuring a large bruise which could only have come from the large branch that had lashed out at both Palamedes, Saint-Germain, and had apparently done the same to Will.

Except that where the large branch had hit the tall Palamedes in the chest, and the medium-height Saint-Germain in the neck, it had delivered a sharp attack to the much shorter British immortal's face.

Palamedes heaved a sigh of relief and sheathed his sword; Francis winced.

"You know," Francis said, looking down at the grimacing immortal and then glaring at the Saracen Knight, "someone really ought to have held that branch for you."


End file.
